As I write this, I am waiting for my flight from Guwahati to New Delhi. Due to a slight goof up, I will be in New Delhi for a day, and then finally shall reach Srinagar, on the hills surrounding the Kashmir Valley, where I shall spend the remainder of my break.
Today, our plans were scuppered for a meeting with the local Operation Smile volunteers, because it was too hot. Now, you might laugh at me for being a pansy, but it was really hot. So hot that the government declared a school holiday for the rest of the week, fearing for the safety of the kids. So instead, today was a free day in our schedule, which is already something that we are improvising.
So we decided that we would get a first person view of the entire process, without being chaperoned.
Yesterday consisted of us running around Guwahati, in the sweltering heat of high noon, going through a maze of side streets, and side side streets, purchasing supplies for the current mission and the center.
As I write this, I am almost dead from exhaustion. Actually, scratch that. I am almost dead from the heat. Today was the first day of the project proper, and the honeymoon period has ended, somewhat has ended. But then, I am starting from the middle. I hate when I do that.
So I took two flights, and reached Guwahati today from Srinagar (it's a town in the Himalays), where I met my parents. It is a bucolic city, kind of like a conglomerate of villages that just managed to become a city somehow.
As I was driving from Borjahar Airport to my hotel, which my partner Mark told me was ghetto, I could not help but think about when I was growing up. Guwahati resembles Jammu, the town I spent 18 very happy years growing up in. Except it looks like Jammu from 15 years ago.
After four finals, an empty room, a flight to Utah, and a week with my sister, I'm back in Oregon for the summer and not feeling nearly old enough to be a college sophomore.
Now that the year is over, I can't believe how fast it went. Looking back, it wasn't what I thought it would be when I was looking forward to it this time last year. I didn't know what to expect back then, but what I got was one of the best years in memory.
My sophomore year is one day from its conclusion. My Friday afternoon French final means that it’ll be holding on to the bitter end, but aside from the hassle of moving out later that afternoon, I’m not too chuffed about it. That’s because I’m again a little reluctant to leave the C of I, and all the people that come with it.
The trees are flowering, the grass is green, the birds are out, and the infamous sprinklers are back on. Gauntlet though they may be to navigate, they are at least a good reminder to slow down.
Dead week is called dead week for a reason; the last few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind! I think there have been more events on campus the past few weeks than would have been possible to attend, even without finals approaching.
We’re in the midst of dead week, and the temperatures are now in the perfect range to induce lethargy. Unfortunately, the library is the place to be instead, and all my regular study spots are being stolen by last-minute paper-writers. Alas and alack.